


Play Pretend

by Roxicodone



Series: Unfinished Business: Cloti Sessions [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cloti - Freeform, Cloti Fall Festival 2019, Complete, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kurati
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roxicodone/pseuds/Roxicodone
Summary: AU, Modern Setting. With Aerith newly engaged, she and Ifalna think it's time for Tifa to have a man of her own. Ifalna believes she's found the perfect man for Tifa but Tifa doesn't want a man! She wants to focus on her new restaurant, not a boyfriend! But Ifalna isn't listening to any of her reasons or excuses and so Tifa creates a boyfriend from work to play pretend with her.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Unfinished Business: Cloti Sessions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/898242
Comments: 20
Kudos: 125





	Play Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this idea for a while and had some trouble with it but I wanted to contribute something, ANYTHING to the Cloti Fall Festival so...here it is. Unpolished and a bit rushed but, meh. At least I got it posted.

_ Mom & I on our way w/new man. U have 15 mins 2 clean up! CU soon _

Tifa groaned as she read Aerith's text message, jumped up from behind her desk and scrambled to throw open her office door. “Biggs!” she called, sprinting down the corridor and into the 7th Heaven kitchen. “Biggs, where are you? It’s time!  _ Biggs?! _ ”

Jessie jerked her chin in the direction of the back door, a bottle of Wutai Whiskey in each hand. “Barret sent him to pick up Marlene about ten minutes ago,” she offered, before disappearing through the swinging doors that led into the bar proper.

Tifa fisted her hands in her hair, tried not to panic. “Oh, for Minerva’s sake!” Biggs had been her scapegoat! Now she needed to come up with a plan to buy herself time until his return; Marlene’s school was only a short walk from 7th Heaven. He’d make it back in time, wouldn’t he?!

“Hey, Tifa,” a quiet voice called, and Tifa’s head jerked around to see Cloud Strife, driver and owner of Strife Delivery Service, making his way toward her, clipboard and pen outstretched. “Can I get your signature for today’s delivery, please?”

She was momentarily distracted from her impending doom at the sight of Cloud, attention diverted by the sexy gait of his walk—rolling hips and measured strides—his broad shoulders and, her favorite of all, those gorgeous, endlessly blue eyes. They caught hers and held, and what she could only think of as  _ magic  _ had her heart stuttering, skin prickling, heat rising.

There was just something she found infinitely  _ irresistible _ about him, from the tips of his spiky golden hair to the ends of his sneakered toes. Sure he was attractive, but she’d met plenty of attractive men before and had never felt the same biting chemistry she did whenever she was near Cloud. She couldn’t even pinpoint what it was, just knew that she found everything about him electrifying, and whenever they were together, she got that pooling heat in her gut that made her want to...well, something along the lines straddling him and plugging his mouth with her own.

Since she’d opened 7th Heaven half a year ago, she’d decided on using Strife Delivery Services for all of the bar’s courier needs—pick up and delivery of local produce and other products—as she wanted to focus on supporting local businesses like her own. And since her first meeting at Strife Delivery so many months ago, and all the subsequent meetings since then, she’d come to realize she had what could only be called  _ the hots _ for its sexy, golden-haired owner.

And she was certain he knew it.

The kicker was, she thought he might also return her attraction.

She wasn’t the best at reading signals—Aerith said it was because she was nice to  _ every _ one and so assumed everyone was just being nice in return when, in reality, the men were actually making advances and she simply wasn’t paying attention—but she thought she might’ve actually paid the correct amount of attention in the case of Cloud Strife?

She knew he employed a small staff and didn’t need to be out in the field anymore, but he personally delivered 7th Heaven’s produce every afternoon, and always sought her out for a signature, though she’d made it clear that anyone in the building during his delivery time could sign for him. And once he’d found her, he’d linger as if reluctant to leave her side, asking her about her day and any plans she might have. She'd catch his gaze and there’d be something in their blue depths, something that made her feel beautiful and sensual, even when she was covered from head to toe in flour from baking, or sweaty with hair matted from scrubbing the kitchen floors.

She’d noticed that he would find ways to touch her, however innocuously, in the way of tucking her hair behind her ear or brushing the bangs from her eyes and, even once, cupping her face to use his thumb to remove some unseen smudge from her cheekbone. When he had finished, he’d held her there for a long, extended moment, his hand warm and intimate, heavy-lidded blue eyes focused intently on her mouth before finally trailing the back of his fingers down her neck and away from her skin. She’d nearly crawled all over him then and, even now weeks later, recalling it made her knees feel weak.

Oh yeah, she definitely had the hots for Cloud Strife. She only wished she had the guts to  _ act _ upon it.

Although…?

Something pinged in her head as an alternative plan began forming and she accepted his proffered items only to tuck them beneath her arm. “Sure, no problem, but first, can I ask you a favor?” She grabbed one of his wrists and begin tugging him along with her as she walked backward until they were in her office once more. “It won’t take long, I promise. Would you shut the door shut behind you?”

Blue eyes watched her questioningly though he offered no resistance, and he used his sneakered foot to push the door closed. “Uh, sure. What’s up, Tifa?”

She attempted her most dazzling if distracted smile while she dropped the clipboard and pen unceremoniously at her feet, continuing to back peddle. Her free hand busily worked the buttons of her chef jacket, the other still holding his wrist to keep him in pace with her, and she only released him once the back of her thighs collided with the desk. Blindly, she perched herself on the edge and inched backward, pointedly ignoring the sound of crumpling paper.

“See, I have this problem.” She tore her gaze from his to better focus on releasing the buttons of her jacket. “Since my best friend got engaged a month ago, her mother has gotten it into her head that I need man too. She’s been nagging me relentlessly to meet all these men she’s sure are perfect for me, and just now—” She exhaled a relieved breath as the last button slid free, then hesitated, recalling that today—of  _ all  _ the days!—she’d opted to wear a delicate, sheer bra, one that was feminine and frivolous and completely impractical, rather than one of her usually sensible and serviceable sports bras. Was she really going to blatantly expose herself to him?!

That impulsive, hasty voice inside of her egged her on, slyly telling her that this was her excuse to finally get Cloud Strife’s hands on her and was she  _ really _ going to pass up the chance?! She was 22 years old, for Shiva’s sake, and was willing to admit—if only to herself—that she’d had many a fevered dream about those blue eyes and rough hands and hot mouth all over her. Just  _ do it _ , that voice told her, and found herself obliging, hastily parting the heavy material to reveal her practically naked bosom to him. “And just now she’s on her way here with a man in tow,” she finished breathlessly.

Oh, goddess help her, but her hands started to tremble and she couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eye, instead kept her gaze lowered and focused on her lap.  _ What  _ had gotten into her? She was usually so good at quelling that foolhardy voice inside of herself and yet there she was, having done  _ exactly  _ what it wanted.

Did he even like what he saw?! Men usually liked breasts and hers were, err, rather generous but that didn’t mean he would find them—and her—attractive! She’d never given her breasts much thought—hell, it wasn’t as if she’d  _ chosen _ a large pair for herself—but now she felt completely inadequate and uncertain, wishing she wasn’t sitting there half-dressed and showing the girls to the man she’d had several, burning fantasies about.

Oh, goddess but she wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.

The doubts began to clamor and she felt her face heat, her brain suddenly working a mile a minute as it tried to critical-think her out of her possibly  _ completely  _ humiliating situation. She was such an  _ idiot _ ! How was she to ever face him again?!

More time passed, and Cloud remained impossibly silent and still. She wished she could see what was on his face without actually  _ looking _ at him, though she could feel his eyes on her breasts and, despite the harrowing thoughts of utter and complete humiliation, she felt her nipples pucker. Oh, gods, but was he simply going to  _ gawk _ ? Was he horrified? If he liked what he saw, wouldn’t his hands be on her skin somewhere, touching her? Gods knew she wanted them to be, even in her addled state, and she knew her tightened nipples weren’t hiding that fact from him. But Mighty Minerva, since he hadn’t reacted at all yet did that mean that he  _ didn’t _ like what he saw? She had zero experience such matters! How was she supposed to know?

Those blue, blue eyes would be able to tell her, wouldn’t they?

She was going to have to look up at him to find out.

Calling herself ten kinds of a fool, she borrowed some more courage from her bucket of recklessness and lifted her eyes upward, pausing at his chin, sliding them further to see his mouth agape, forced them pass those lips that she’d fantasized countless times of kissing, and finally up to a set of blue eyes that were wide as saucers and, as she’d suspected, zeroed in on her exposed breasts.

Was that good or bad?!

_ Why did she have to be such an idiot about such matters? _

Needing to mask her growing awkwardness, words began spewing from her mouth. “I’ve told her thousands of times that I’m not interested in meeting a man but she either didn’t hear me or didn’t want to listen. Last week, I got a bit desperate and told her I was seeing someone from work. I’d had asked Biggs to pretend to be my boyfriend but he’s gone on an errand just now and—that’s where you come in, to be my stand-in boyfriend.” Hands still trembling but telling herself that she was already half naked in front of him, what else did she have to lose, she grabbed his wrists again, parting her knees and tugging until his hips were between them. “To play pretend,” she finished, and planted his hands at her waist, held them in place.

The position naturally thrust her shoulders back and chest forward, the tips of her breasts pressing into his uniform while her knees hugged his thighs. The feel of his hands, hot and bare and rough, were distracting even though she’d put them on her skin herself. Was she too bold, too impatient? She’d made all the moves thus far but she’d been the one to initiate the intimacy so, really, how was he  _ supposed _ to react? And exactly how much longer was she going to have to keep it up? She dropped her hands and silently prayed to Shiva, Minerva, Allah, Buddah, any and all the great heavens above, that  _ someone would help her! _

Azure eyes gone the color of ultramarine, they jerked from where they’d been fixated and met hers head on, piercing and focused. In them, she found disbelief, eagerness, and hot, fiery, answering  _ lust _ . The fingers at her waist tightened and relaxed several times, as if in debate of what to do or where to travel, before his palms slid to her lower back and upward, bunching the heavy fabric of her jacket and pressing her forward so she was flush against him. “Tifa,” he breathed, voice husky and filled with wonder, and pressed his mouth to hers.

She’d imagined his kiss more than a thousand times before but nothing could have prepared her for his onslaught, for the softness of his lips, the probing slide of them, the groan he made in the back of his throat as he learned the taste of her with a flick of his tongue. Her hands slid into his hair and gripped while his mouth worked hers fiercely, almost desperately, hot and heated and had her head spinning. Still, it wasn’t enough, and Tifa tugged golden spikes, tilting her head to angle their mouths and better taste him.

He made an encouraging sound as his hands began to move, stroking her back, sliding to her hips again and dragging her forward so her pelvis cradled his. He kept maneuvering her limbs and she had no protest, her fingers moving along his scalp, oblivious to everything but the flavor of him that burned hot as fire, the feel of her flesh tingling wherever his skin touched her own, the trembling of her body to finally,  _ finally _ have him wrapped around her.

Goddess but her fantasies hadn’t held a candle to the sensations he was evoking in her and why the hell had she waited so damn long to make a move on him?

He slipped his mouth from hers, breaths rapid, only to pick her up bodily and lay her flat against the desk. Her eyes opened blearily to meet piercing, swirling blue ones gone as deep as sapphires, still ripe with disbelief and electric with desire. Braced over her on his forearms, he sent stacks of paper crashing to the floor, shoved folders to follow in their wake. The point of something sharp cut into the center of her back but Tifa didn’t hear or feel any of it, couldn’t focus on anything except how wonderfully he was looking at her.

“Tifa,” he breathed again, her name coming out rough as gravel, as if ripped from deep within him. She nodded, though she wasn’t sure why, and a bright, eager grin slashed across his features before his lips and tongue began trailing along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Her back arched, eyelids slipping shut again while she shivered all over when he paused to suck at the tender skin near her collarbone, whimpered when he pushed her jacket aside to give her shoulder the same treatment.

He pressed unintelligible words against her skin, words that sounded like praises, words that made her feel lovely and sensual even as she made purring, pleased sounds in response. His knees knocked against the desk loudly as he worked his way hot and heavy back up, up, up until their mouths were fused once more. Gods but how she could have missed his kisses so much when they’d hardly left her she didn’t know, only that his mouth on hers was as important as air and he tasted so,  _ so  _ good.

Her head was swimming, her senses and every nerve ending locked in on Cloud’s mouth and heat, the smell of him, the muscles in his shoulders and back, the hardness in his groin that was grinding against her. Her knees were locked tight at his waist, heels gripping the back of his thighs as she encouraged his movements—

His mouth was suddenly ripped from hers, chest heaving, and she felt his body suddenly curving around her, hiding her face in the space between his neck and shoulder, cradling her protectively. “Shhh,” he murmured gently into her ear when she made a questioning sound, pressing kisses wherever she could reach.

“Ahh, will you give us a minute please?” The words were just a rumble from his chest but called over his shoulder, and the action jolted Tifa from her dazed trance. Her eyes blinked open and she paused the painting action of her tongue along his skin.

What was going on?

Beyond Cloud’s shoulder, she could hear the sound of shuffling feet followed by the creak of a door. “I am so, so sorr —”

“Aerith, is Tifa in the—oh  _ Mighty Minerva!” _ There the sound of a loud gasp, then a shrieking, “Tifa  _ Lockhart! _ ”

Aerith and Ifalna’s voices brought Tifa back down to Gaia with a hard, abrupt thud, her brain suddenly working again at a pace that rivaled her still hammering heart. Aerith and Ifalna, at her door. Aerith and Ifalna, at her restaurant. Aerith and Ifalna, visiting her with designs to have her meet a man. Aerith and Ifalna, walking in on her while she was doing her best to ravage Cloud Strife. 

“Oh my goddesses,” she whispered, feeling Cloud draw back from her as she struggled to sit upright once more.

She collided with sapphire eyes as he helped her up, his strong hands back on her hips to help slide her to the edge of the desk again. They lingered there as blue was still swimming with arousal and heat, the emotions tempered now with alarm and embarrassment. His mouth twisted in a sheepish, lopsided smile and her heart did a strange stutter at the sight. Oh but she wanted to stay in the moment...except—

“—uhh, Mama, let’s give Tifa and her boyfriend some privacy—”

“I believe giving them privacy is  _ exactly _ what led to this—”

“ _ Mama! _ ” The sound of shuffling feet echoed again, along with the creak of the door before it snicked shut. “Sorry, Teefs!” came a muffled apology, and a pair of bickering voices drifted further away.

“Your friend and her mother, I assume,” Cloud said into the following silence.

Heat filled Tifa’s face for completely different reasons than it had before and she tore her eyes from vivid blue, feeling suddenly terribly awkward and gauche. She blew out a breath, nodded, and turned her face away, made a motion to move around him. She was absolutely mortified now, after her actions and  _ re _ actions, and Shiva, but she could never, ever look him in the face again.

But he stopped her withdrawal with a single caress, the back of his hands gliding just beneath the weight of her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her still hardened nipples. Her limbs froze, breath hitching at the sensation, torn now between wishing he would continue and knowing she had to leave him and deal with what lay beyond her office door. She listened to him release a ragged breath before he suddenly gave a tug and pulled the ends of her jacket over her chest.

“I didn't mean to—I just wanted to close—" He cleared his throat, finished with a hasty, "Later" and leaned forward to press a sloppy kiss to her temple before stepping backward. She blinked at him, watched as he tripped over the clipboard and pen she’d dropped earlier and found herself completely charmed at his clumsiness, the heat in his cheeks that matched her own. He clasped both hands in front of his groin, shifted uncomfortably, and gave her another crooked smile. “And we won’t play pretend,” he promised with bright, sparkling blue eyes.

“No more pretend,” she agreed, unable to hide her beaming, answering smile of agreement.

If what he'd just showed her was playing pretend, she couldn't wait to see what he had in store for her when things were real.


End file.
